


The beginning to an end

by okaywhateverokayyes



Category: Animal Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9247268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaywhateverokayyes/pseuds/okaywhateverokayyes
Summary: “It’s not going away,” he mumbles, “It’s just there. All the time.” He pauses. Adrian hears him exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Every other one being more forced than the previous one. “All. The. Time.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Limbo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7638865) by [okaywhateverokayyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaywhateverokayyes/pseuds/okaywhateverokayyes). 



> I want to preface this by saying that this story does go along with something I've been exploring with Deran's character arc in my other story called 'Limbo'. This can also be read as a standalone.
> 
> I also want to forewarn everyone that this chapter does cover a sensitive matter and that is, the thoughts of suicide. It's a sensitive topic which I am not privy to but am extremely cognizant of the significance of the impact it can have on someone.
> 
> It's a lot of pain and anguish embellished in their complex dynamic.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading.

He doesn’t regret it persay the moment he glazes his hand over the keys of his keyboard. The screen blinds his eyes and he should have taken it as some sort of indication that what he was about to do was unnecessary and too forthcoming. But his fingers betray him as he struck the keys.

 _What does it take to want to end your life_? He types, swallowing a lump in his throat as he presses the enter key. He feels the sudden urge to shove his fist into the indent between his eyes but resists the urge as he glosses over the search results that popped up.

 _Suicide Prevention Hotline._ The first thing that he reads.

_‘I want to Die’- What to do when you feel you want to die._

Die, he supposes.

The need to even consider must have greatly surpassed the will to live. That’s what the action entailed so what was even the necessary point of even stating that oxymoron, bothered Adrian. Because wasn’t the option clear? Had it been that much of an indecisive moment because if it had then he wasn’t going to be the one to question it.

It would invalidate anyone’s need to commit it.

He didn’t have the place to do that.

Shove someone down who was already faced down in quicksand.

Quicksand.

Adrian clamps his mouth shut as he felt the sudden urge to heave.

He clears the search bar before retyping: _why do people commit suicide_.

A number pops up.

His eyes gaze over the most popular article and he clicks on the mouse, the page being directed to it’s format.

He starts to read, but he skips over every other word, the gravity of the article wearing thin as he continued to do so. It was a conscious effort he knew that he had to make for if he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure how he would even get past a sentence.

_That is the power of the human mind.._

_In general, people do not commit suicide because they are in pain, they commit suicide because they don't believe there is a reason to live and the world will be better off without them._

The world would be a better place?

The world would be a _better_ fucking place?

But how could anyone possible know the consequences or repercussions of their actions. How can they conclusively come to this notion that their presence, lack thereof, would be a productive asset to society if not tangibly present on this planet? Is it too presumptuous to assume that?

Did it make any difference?

He leans back, rests against the chair, shifting ever so slowly as his lower back began to numb. He knows that it was distracting him from the ache that perforated in his chest and continued to slam against his cavity wall. He feels it with every word he reads and he has to catch his breath when the throbbing knocks the air out of his lungs.

_Why was he doing this?_

He quickly closes all the tabs, switching off the desktop and pushes himself away from the desk-one forceful push, placating both his feet to the ground as to stabilize himself. His legs cave the moment he drops them. He doesn’t even make an effort to stand up even though he feels the walls start to close in on him.

He wants to shove his head into his hands and scream until his lungs burst but he knows that even though bellows were being made, something inside of him was compensating for it. He knows it because the ache starts to feel like stabs. Over and over again. Knife in, knife out. He doesn’t even get the opportunity to catch his breath because he feels the next blow just as fast.

He whips his head around when he hears the front door slam shut.

He doesn’t know how he finds the strength to not have his knees cave in, but he forces an inhale that was inevitably leaving him more breathless and turns the corner from his bedroom before leaning on the wall for support, throwing on a smile that weighs down his bravado.

Deran drops his duffel bag beside the sill. He kicks off his slippers fastidiously, tugging the strands of hair that fell over his eyes. He mutters ‘ for fuck’s sake’ lowly under his breath before he shoves both his index and middle finger under his wrist band and rakes his hair, before tying his hair in a loose bun.

Adrian likes it. It made him look indifferent without even trying but Adrian knew otherwise. There was never anything accidental with the way he noosed his hair.

Adrian threw on a quick smile.

“How’s J?”

Deran growls, “ _Good_ ,” whisking his gaze away as he slid past Adrian, “I’m good, too.” He continues, the sarcasm dry and dripping in every word. He grabs the knob of the shelves as he tugs on them, takes a brief look before shutting them close. He continues to do that until he leaned his back, arms crossed, a disconcerted look etches over his face.

“I was going to ask you.” Adrian flatly responds with.

“The kid’s on my fucking last nerve.”

Adrian drops his hand as he arched back, frowning.

“Whatever he did-“

“Don’t.” Deran interrupted, heavy and final.

Adrian doesn’t know if he should even but his body betrays him as he clasps Deran’s hand, curling his own fingers with Derans’. Adrian has to freeze the same moment he feels Deran still his hand. He doesn’t glance at Deran but feels his glare seeping through his skull. Adrian lowers his eyes and curls-uncurls-his fingers until he feels his breathing persist without metastazing the ache deep in his chest.

He has to stifle a gasp when Deran twists both their hands around, rubbing his thumb against the sole of Adrian’s palm in a verbatim manner.

“Bad day?”

Adrian wasn’t sure if that was an understatement.

“Yeah.” He swallows, still unwilling to make contact because _shit_.

He knew the moment he rested his eyes on Deran’s blues, he would falter. He regrets reading everything in that very moment. Now, it wasn’t a foreign thought. It never was but to have to read someone’s articulated thoughts about death made it that much more tangible. Deran never talked about it again and Adrian never asked because he wasn’t sure if he could.

Even if he could, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it.

 _Out of sight, out of mind_.

“Hey,” Deran’s soft voice causes Adrian to tighten his grip. “ _Hey_.” Deran tries again, this time lowering his head until Adrian’s periphery caught his watchful gaze, “What happened?”

Adrian shook his head. Because that was the extent to how much he could articulate anything at that moment. He needed to find a grip because not only did he want to have to bring anything up, he didn’t want to, in anyway, have to have his questions answered.

“Did I, I don’t know, do something?” Deran offered, “You’ve got to give me more slack about your tires, man. I told you I’d get them changed the moment I get some extra cash.”

“It’s not about that.” Adrian was even surprised he had replied.

By the momentary pause, Adrian assumes Deran was too.

“Is it J too?” The discontent arose back into his voice, “I swear to fucking Christ, that kid needs-“

“No,” he hated even when Deran would insinuate a reprimand, although void of any real intent, J had become their friend. He was a good kid. Adrian couldn’t hear it.

“Then, did you watch some animal kingdom shit?”

Adrian had to glance up.

“What.”

“Discovery, man.” Deran shrugged, “Did you watch like a deer get mauled or something?”

“Why would that upset me?”

Deran pulled away, just enough, that Adrian couldn’t feel suffocated. Deran scratches at his neck with his free hand as he offers, “You get,” he starts but heaves a sigh as he rests his eyes against Adrians’, “upseteasily.”

He wants to feel insulted but it’s quickly dimmed with the gravity of what was weighing on his shoulders. He takes a momentary glance at Deran and wishes he could just capture that exact look that washed over Deran’s face and have it etched into his brain.

The way his eyes muster up, and even if Deran hadn’t meant to, his eyes glisten with the faintest gloss. His lips thin but he would glide his tongue briefly against the corners of his mouth. As if the words are dying on his lips and he has to distract himself from interrupting before anything could be sad.

Deran wasn’t inconspicuous when he didn’t try. He wasn’t even remotely stoic because if someone had just watched him, they would _know_ that Deran never hid anything. He didn’t necessarily wear his heart on his sleeve but he sure fucking wore them in his eyes.

Deran doesn't make an effort to guess. He pursues his lips and Adrian can feel the prodding eyes piercing through his head. Adrian braces his free hand against the counter, catching Deran's circling thumb in mid-motion. 

 

"I uh," for a second, Adrian seems to forget what words are, " _shit_." And he knows he's about to croak as soon as he clamps up. He crunches his jaw as his eyes start to fog, pulling his free hand upwards before resting his palm against his cheek. 

 

He feels the pounding of his chest in his ears and he knows his breath has  picked up. He knows inevitably what this would all lead to so he retracts his hand away from Deran and slides past him as he grabs a glass. 

 

He turns on the faucet and fills the glass up, up to the brim before he elbows the faucet off and takes a large swing. His throat feels like thorns covered in incendiary material that had been inflamed. Despite the fact that he knows he's drinking water to satiate that prickling, every gulp he takes, his throat feels drier. 

 

The sounds in his ear reverberates to the point where he has to slam the glass down. It's with enough force that he can hear Deran shifting beside him, feels how close he has as he wraps his fingers around the glass that Adrian has been gripping onto. 

 

He doesn't know just how tight the clasp is until Deran softly mumbles, "you're gonna bleed.  _Come_   _on_ , Adrian." And he wants to bleed. He wants whatever turmoil spewing in the lower half of his chest to become something tangible. 

 

Adrian doesn't let go. 

 

"Adrian." He recognizes the shift in tone in Deran's voice. It's harsh and with brevity. "Let.  _Go_." Adrian feels cool fingers tugging on his own. He knows he's being stubborn as he's resisting but he doesn't find it within himself to let go. He stares down at the shards of glass , the bottom half of the glass in pieces. He's holding onto the upper half but he knows that he's piercing the base of his palm at the exposed edges, sharp enough for Adrian to recognize that the numbing in his hand is a result of how much he has already pierced the end into his skin. 

 

If he were to pull back. 

 

He knew Deran would be right. 

 

He drops it against the slab, Deran retracting both their hands away from the collision. He mutters a low curse under his breath before whipping his head to gaze at the crimson red that started to leak from the deep indent in Adrian's palm. 

 

"I fucking told you," Deran growls as he fists some tissues in his other hand before he starts to dab at the blood running down Adrian's wrist. It doesn't hurt. He almost feels numb to it. Adrian notices the way Deran flickers his eyes at him as he wipes at his hand. He notices the way Deran mouths 'what are you going' at him before he's concentrating on the cut.

 

Adrian knows that the lump in his throat has just exacerbated to the point where he knows he has to ask. 

 

Deran continues to hiss under his breath as Adrian blinks a couple of times, trying to clear his vision. He knows the cut isn't deep and the bleeding has stopped. He wonders if Deran knows it too. 

 

Deran dabs the tissues until he slides them all the way to his elbow, before fisting them in his hand.

 

He whips his eyes to look straight into Adrian's and Adrian feels the immediate visceral cut. Deran is glowering and he's breathing more raggedly. His blues were dimmed and there was a certain discontent that wiped away his usual features. Adrian knows Deran is biting down on his tongue, he can tell by the way he sees Deran's jaw protrude from his skin. 

 

Deran continues to glare at him until Adrian tugs his sleeve down. His look softens and he wears a thin but tight smile as he sighs.

 

"You're insane." And there isn't any gravity to it. Adrian offers a meek smile in return before he grabs the coiled tissues from Deran's hand and goes to throw it out. 

 

Deran's watching. 

 

Keenly. 

 

He senses it.

 

But he doesn't ask. Adrian waits for Deran to. But he never does. Instead, he uncurls his fists and wipes his hands against his shorts. He jabs his finger in Adrian's direction and let's out a sardonic snort. It's full of contempt and Adrian almost flinches when Deran shakes his head in the most non egregious way. 

 

Adrian watches from the corner of his eye as Deran walks in to the hallway, hears as Deran paces across the entirety of his place. Knows that the stomping was a reflection of his discontent and Adrian has to settle his head against the pavement of the counter as the strides get longer and faster, as if Deran had been unable to find what he was intent on looking for and wasn't going to settle for any less.

 

He knows he has to lift his head up when the steps get closer and closer to him, but his willing need to stop the throbbing in his head, dismantled his disposition. 

 

So he rests his head against the slab. 

 

He knows Deran is watching but he also focuses on how Deran slows his breaths. The way he shuffles insidiously beside Adrian. The way he would tap his feet against the tile and then retract his foot the moment he's realized what he's done, but he continues the verbatim manner until Adrian feels the cool fingers brace against his back.

 

Deran starts to run his hand up and down, the contrast between the friction of the fabric and Deran's touch, was almost inconsistent if not, stupendously disparate.

 

It feels like a conundrum because it was one.

 

There was Adrian's shirt, settled against his flesh as the sweat perforated from the orifices of his flesh.  Then there was Deran's hand, disturbing the harmony his flesh and the fabric of shirt had already made.

 

It was so insignificant and would have been not so bothersome, if it weren't for the fact that Adrian became so attuned to every single aspect of his surroundings.

 

"Deran, stop." He croaks, because it was becoming unbearing.

 

"Why?" Deran sounds confused and it's punctuated in the way he asks ' _why_ '. As if he's waiting for any answer that would make sense of Adrian's behavior. As if everything was contingent on his response.

 

Adrian knew that it was. 

 

And even as he cusps his mouth to formulate an answer, he lets out a low sigh when the gravity of those words become that much more tangible.

 

 

"You'd tell me if you're not doing well," Adrian jabs at his temple to clarify even as his forehead is pressed up against the counter, "up here." He continues to jab until he drops his hand to his side and turns to face Deran.

 

Deran doesn't respond.

 

He's looking at Adrian with utter confusion and Adrian watches as the crease in his forehead disappears and is replaced by a sudden realization.

 

"What's that got to do with anything?" Deran sounds defensive. As if he had been prodded when he was least expecting it. Adrian feels the full force of it as Deran retracts his hand and takes a step back, putting space between them that makes it that much more difficult to breathe. 

 

 

"Right now it doesn't but," Adrian mumbles, "one day it will. And  _that_  doesn't just go away." 

 

Deran frowns. He takes another step back. Another. And another. Until he stops in his tracks and digs the sole of his foot into the tiles.

 

"That?" 

 

"Those thoughts." Adrian replies, "in your head." 

 

"They aren't in my head." He retorts back. 

 

"They don't just go away, Deran. They're gonna surface the moment shit goes bad." 

 

And he senses the shift in his demeanor when Deran lifts his hands to cross them against his chest. It wasn't even a modicum of self defensive as it was a display of self-aggrandization. 

 

He's surprised by the questioning. Adrian feels it.

 

"Everything has been shit. Look at me. I'm  _fine_." Deran responds with, palms cusping the opposite ceps. His hands flex in motion as he grits his jaw and the sound induces a low pit, amongst the many already present, in Adrian's stomach. 

 

"Do you honestly think that it was a one time thing?" 

 

"I didn't," he pauses, "say  _that_." 

 

"So you've thought about it again?" 

 

"I  _didn't_  say that." 

 

"Deran." 

 

"I'm. fine." He grits with even more conviction which Adrian assumes it to be false. Because it had to be. 

 

"We're going around in circles, Deran." 

 

"Really? I couldn't tell." Deran's snarky as he whisks his head away. 

 

"Every single time we argue, it's always me ending up saying the same thing. You're. Full. Of.  Shit. Deran." 

 

And he knows the full effect of those words. Deran whips his head in Adrian's direction, dropping his hands to his sides, as if the words had done its purpose and sliced through his bravado. 

 

"Sorry for fucking asking." Deran spits as he turns on his heels and rushes out of the room. Adrian follows suit, keeping up with his pace. He keeps his distance because he's not sure what it would invoke if he were to be in close proximity. It's not as if he was afraid of the response, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't. 

 

Deran tugs the front door open and strides out, goes to slam it shut but stops when Adrian lengthens his step, impeding his gesture. 

 

Deran grips onto the frame, his knuckles cracking. 

 

He's looking at Adrian with disdain. He can't discern whether it was directed at him or at the impromptu questioning but Adrian assumes if it wasn't either, it was both. 

 

He watches as Deran continues to tighten his grip on the frame. He notices the way Deran drops his gaze but then lifts his head up and stares off in the distance. Adrian takes a stop forward and has to stop when Deran takes a step back. 

 

"Deran." 

 

He holds his hand up. 

 

"I-" he starts but bites his lip, rubbing at his eyes in frustration that emanates everywhere, "I don't know why you want to know that." His voice is much lower and there isn't malice. 

 

He sounds tired. He sounds receptive to just telling anything.

 

"And I'm not trying to say the same shit." Deran starts. 

 

"Except you are." Adrian interrupts the same time Deran says, "except I  _am_." 

 

They both catch each other's gaze. Deran blinks a couple of times and the iridescence is once again retained in his pupils. It softens the ache in Adrian's chest and he takes the effort to take another step. He's prepared for Deran to take another step back but he's surprised when Deran closes the distance between them and coils his hands around Adrian's back. He crushes his chest against Adrian's and presses his nose in the helm of Adrian's neck. 

 

The harsh breathing is much more languid and slower. Deran rubs at the skin at the base of his jaw and it's the briefest of flutters that Adrian has to question whether they even happened. 

 

Deran pulls away, but keeps one hand against Adrian's shoulder. 

 

"I was looking up some shit about death and suicide. I know you haven't said much or anything since last November and I'm starting to think that I'm going to forget that you even feel this way so before I do that, I kind of wanted to remind myself that _that_  doesn't just go away. That's just apart of you. And I'm not mad. And I'm not judging you. I just want to know that you're dealing with it." The words come out so fast, Adrian starts to heave as he catches his breath. 

 

Deran doesn't give him the opportunity to finish catching his breath. 

 

"Why would you want to know  _that_?" 

 

And Adrian's confused. 

 

"Why wouldn't I?" 

 

Deran frowns. 

 

"Why do you want to know how fucked up I feel?" 

 

And he feels the urge to shake him- because  _shit_. To Adrian, it was obvious. The answer was painstakingly simple and the pits in his stomach only grew when it became clear that Deran didn't. 

 

"Cause I love you." Adrian replies, just as quick, "and you're my best friend. I want to know the good and the bad. What's the point if you don't let me know what's making you happy and what's happening up there?" 

 

Deran freezes. Adrian watches as his shoulders tighten. He's biting down on his jaw. His knees harden as he claps the sole of his slippers against the wooden slabs. 

 

"Remember when I sprained my wrist back at Jones'? I was trying to wring the damn holster and it pulled me back and snapped my arm?" 

 

Deran stares at him.

 

"I didn't tell her cause I thought she would kill me. So I went home and I tried to not use that hand. Everything is going well and I almost get away it except for when she grabbed it when I almost tripped over my foot out the front door. I never screamed so loud. Or cried so much." He chuckles. 

 

Deran continues to stare at Adrian. 

 

"And she took me to the clinic, got me patched up and she takes me home. Doesn't say anything. We're eating and she doesn't say anything. She tucks me into bed and still says nothing. I'm thinking,  _shit_  she is mad and I'm just about to close my eyes and she sits right next to me and starts to cry," Adrian feels the ache in his chest as he remembers the way his mother was shaking at the stool of his bed. The memory was seeped deep inside his brain. 

 

"I said I was sorry over and over again. I thought I’d done it. I’ve made my own mother cry and she’ll never forgive me,” he remembers how inconsolable she was that night and he also remembers how he refrains from contact because he wasn’t sure how she would respond. It took everything in his will not to clasp his mother’s hand or hug her because he wanted to. He really wanted to. He didn’t know whether she wanted him to. So he never did. He stayed in his bed and watched her until she tore her eyes open, nose swollen, cheeks puffed, tears streaming down her jaw. The memory feels so recent, Adrian takes a gulp as he continues, “You know what she said to me?" 

 

Adrian waits for him to respond.

 

And Deran does.

 

Deran is slow as he shakes his head. 

 

"She said that she felt horrible that I couldn't tell her and asked me why I didn’t. I told her that I thought she'd be mad at me for doing something stupid and she said that when you love someone, you don't just settle for the good and ignore the bad. You love someone not inspite of it or despite of it but because of it. The good and the bad. And the good should always outweigh the bad. And if you can’t handle the bad, you don’t deserve their love. Their time. Their attention." 

 

Deran’s looking at him, his cowering softens and Adrian knows he’s understanding the relevance of it.

 

“Ad-“

 

" _You_ are a good person-" 

 

"I’m a fucking m-." 

 

"-you are. You sometimes do it the wrong way and  I know you're learning and I'm learning with you. I know you got good intentions, I know that. And I know that you think you can't tell me what you're feeling but you're dead wrong. I don't want to not know that part of you Deran." 

 

"You don't get it." His voice softens. 

 

"Then let me understand. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

 

Deran scowls as he lets out a frustrated growl, "I have you, I'll be fine." As if he didn’t have to consider those thoughts circulating in his mind because he had solace. As if in that very moment, Deran was considering it for the first time himself that this was all he needed. Adrian.

 

He makes a point that is so void of any concrete certainty, it’s impractical.

 

“Deran,” Adrian has to swallow the lump in his throat as he croaks, “Nothing in life is a guarantee. Not me. Not you. Not us. Nothing. Nothing will ever be a hundred percent guarantee.” Deran shoves his hands down his pockets, but keeps his eye contact with Adrian and Adrian is subconsciously grateful because although the action of sliding hands in pocket was indicative of shutting down, Deran’s eyes betray him just as fast. Adrian notices the way Deran flickers his eyes but the bright blue is slightly dull, but just as shimmering.

He’s listening.

“You can’t-“ he struggles to find the words because what he wants to say is _you can’t have your emotional state contingent on the status of whatever they had, it was too risky_. What he ends up saying is, “-you need to get better for yourself, Deran. Not for me. Not for others. If you can’t stand on your own, you can never stand for anyone else. You need to be strong for yourself and have to find things that give you that strength that won’t need you to rely on other people for it.”

And he has to say it when he notices that Deran wants to contest.

“People will always fail you, Deran. Values and convictions will never do that.” Adrian watches as the words die on Deran’s lips, “I promise you that. If I never promise anything else, know that this is true, man.”  

And he knows that Deran’s aborbing what he had just said. He watches as Deran shuts his lids close in a rapid manner, the dullness evaporating and being replaced with something more transparent.

With understanding.

“I’ve thought about it.”

The words cut through Adrian’s façade. His knees almost cave but he’s just as alarmed when Deran swings his hands under his pits, providing him with physical support as he helped lift Adrian upwards. Adrian rests his body against Deran because he doesn’t know whether he could hear whatever Deran had to say from a distance away.

Deran doesn’t contest.

Instead he guides them both back into his place and kicks the door shut.

Deran doesn’t miss a beat as he straddles Adrian into his grip, his arms wrapped tightly around his upper and lower back. If Adrian was being completely honest, Deran’s grip was the only thing that was holding him up.

“I’m sorry.” Adrian whispers.

“I can stop-“

“No. _No_.” This wasn’t about Adrian, “I asked. I want to know.”

Adrian feels Deran nod his head.

“It’s not as strong. It’s just there. You know?” Which Adrian knows that he doesn’t, “It’s there everytime I wake up and everytime I go to sleep. It’s there when I’m doing things I think I like. Being around with people I think I enjoy being around. It’s there even when I’m with you and it wasn’t there _before_.” Adrian feels Deran’s breath shudder against the back of his neck.

He feels the weight of that truth, shatter inside Deran.

Because maybe he was obtuse to it, or maybe it was because he didn’t want to believe it. Whether he liked it or not, Adrian had been Deran’s anchor. And that anchor wasn’t feasible anymore. Nothing was holding Deran back. There was nothing keeping him grounded.

“It’s not going away,” he mumbles, “It’s just there. All the time.” He pauses. Adrian hears him exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Every other one being more forced than the previous one. “All. The. Time.”

And he doesn’t ask for Deran to continue.

He wraps his limp hands around Deran’s back, gripping onto his waist in a manner than he was sure would leave some indents. Adrian stuffs his face into the crook of Deran’s neck, rubbing his forehead against Deran’s flesh as a way to comfort him. Adrian doesn’t reply because he knows that they both can feel the silence carried more weight than any other words could.

They stay there for a while.

They stay there for minutes.

They are sure of it.

But it feels like hours.

It feels like days.

It feels like the end to one aspect and the beginning of something entirely different.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I did glean an excerpt from: https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/curious/201405/why-do-people-kill-themselves-new-warning-signs


End file.
